Something in the Way
by Blueberry Absinth
Summary: A ballad of letting go. Rukia and Renji come to terms with the lack of a certain somebody in their lives... multichapter, AU, spoilers for the last chapters in the manga
1. Chapter 1

**For Byakuya.**

* * *

The last time Renji saw his captain's body was in the Kuchiki estate, while he was watching one of the ceremonies, preceding the funeral.

Only he, Rukia and Ginrei-san, Byakuya's grandfather, were present; since they were Byakuya's only remaining relatives, and Renji was his lieutenant and therefore supposed to be close to him (he could only imagine he had been.)

As formal and slow as a Kuchiki could be, Ginrei-san approached his dead grandson's body, a small bowl of fragrant water in his hand. The aroma of incense and tears hung in the air. The other two witnesses of the ceremony were silent, their eyes very interested in the shape of their thighs, as they were sitting with eyes hidden away from each other. Both were fighting their tears, refusing to lapse in the despair. They didn't dare raise their gaze lest all their efforts be in vain. This was probably their last meeting with a close friend and only relative and they had to make sure the memory wasn't (that much of a) bad one.

In contrast, Ginrei-san was stone-faced as he moistened his grandson's lips with the fragrant water. The only thing Rukia and Renji could hear was the quiet splash of water in which they hid their sadness and grief, and in which they felt the hint of a promise that the water will wash it all away (but such a promise was so far away from being fulfilled, oh so far away.)

Renji risked a glance up from his thighs to the motionless body in front of him.

The face of the dead Byakuya Kuchiki wasn't very different from his usual one before his decease - blank, not betraying any emotion. Except that the pale pink hue his skin was (used to be) in his lifetime was absent and an even, pale shade of marble had taken reign of his features. Only his lips still had a little colour in them, livened up more by the water that Ginrei-san had just matted over the soft tissue: they were light pink, opened a little and covered with liquid.

Renji had seen them like that before; suddenly, he wanted to touch them, trail his fingers over his face, say goodbye to him properly before he lost him forever. Hell, he even longed to hug him, to simply be close to that body which had once housed his mentor, his worst enemy and yet one of his best friends.

But he couldn't and Ginrei-san was already finishing the ceremony, as still-faced as any proud Kuchiki. Renji stared at him.

"Must be hard to outlive your grandchild," a stray thought wriggled its way through the mist of emotions in his mind.

A small, lonely tear managed to fight its trail out of the barriers around his eyes and heart and slid down his cheek.

He wiped it with the back of his index.

...

...

"_What_?!"

Rukia all but screeched.

Ukitake-taicho shut up, startled at the display of emotions by the usually calm and composed girl. As she watched his expression change, the new situation was slowly registered in her brain: she was up, her hand had formed a fist with which she'd apparently banged on the table and her breathing was labored. Her eyes were wide open, as well as her mouth. She couldn't believe her ears. But she was feeling hysterical.

"Onii-sama is a prideful Kuchiki; his ashes have to be buried in the family grave! As long as I'm alive, it will be so!"

She couldn't believe she was shouting at Ukitake-taicho; respectable, wise, amazing Ukitake-taicho. But she also couldn't believe that he was telling her such things, despite the fact that it had been the Captain-Commander's will to be so (and who knows why.)

And the white-haired man was looking at her, something like pity wedged in his eyes, like understanding, like fear, like the unknown feeling that Rukia was experiencing herself. Maybe that's how soldiers who came from war felt.

Maybe. She couldn't tell, after all; it had been a while since she felt anything.

She took a deep breath and steadied herself.

"I won't allow this to happen," she said, wanting to end the argument, but still refusing to relent. She had never clashed with Ukitake-taicho and she wouldn't like _that_ to happen.

Ukitake's look gently suggested otherwise.

And when he opened his mouth again, Rukia gaped at the words that came out of it.

...

...

Not long after Byakuya Kuchiki's body was left at the family manor so that the other ceremonies succeeding death could be carried out (Rukia had some problems with the organization of the funeral itself), Renji was called to the Captain-Commander's Headquarters, where, without much ado or anything, he was promoted to the rank of a captain.

"You are to command the Sixth Division," he was told quickly and then shooed away from there.

It was somewhere between the Tenth and the Eleventh Division that he finally snapped out of his daze and realized where he was, what he was and what he had to do.

His mind tried to console him: "It's all right, there has to be a captain of the Sixth Division in order for it to operate successfully."

He told and told himself lies and lies, but all he could imagine was the wrong image of him, all fiery hair and tattoos the colour of midnight, sitting in _his_ place, taking up his personal space, trying to imitate _him_, the embodiment of elegance and power itself, but not quite managing to do so and getting angry because Byakuya Kuchiki was a unique person, had a unique presence that can ever be copied. And no matter how much he tried, he would always be Renji – the street urchin Renji, who had always wanted to be the prince, but was so much better at being the pauper.

Renji-_taicho_. He tried the syllables on his tongue and almost slipped in the "fuku" in common sense.

His mouth tasted like ashes.

However, in the end, he couldn't do anything but accept the title and the pile of responsibilities attached to it.

...

...

The first week, Renji did paperwork the same way Byakuya did (used to do) it: never missing a deadline, keeping his desk clear of any paper, being as clean and as top-notch as possible. On the seventh day, he got severely drunk and lost count of the paperwork he tore and left like that. From then on, he chose a random Seat for a Lieutenant and never ever touched paperwork again.

His desk was messy, with a nasty pile of dirty overdue papers.

...

* * *

**Actually,I had no idea if Byakuya has any living relatives but when the wiki said his grandfather was alive so I decided to go with it. Which is strange since why the hell would Byakuya succeed the place of Sixth Division's Captain and Head of the Kuchiki family if the person before him was still alive? Unless they have some kind of set time to lead? Who knows :D (if someone can elaborate, then I'd be really glad).**

**Hmm, what problems might Rukia have with the organization of the funeral? Interesting… :)**

**Random bits of clarification:**

**1. The ceremony described in the beginning is called **_**water of the last moment**_**. Usually it's done immediately after a death or, if the death is expected, a few days before it.**


	2. Chapter 2

...

It was one o'clock at night and Rukia and Ichigo still hadn't fallen asleep already. The night was pleasantly cool, which was a nice break from the hot weather during the day, and even the window in Ichigo's room was opened so that a light breeze made its way through the light green curtains. Shy, silver tendrils of moonlight crept into the room, leaving small pools of pure silver.

Rukia was bathed in one, as she sat in her closet, her knee drawn to her chest, her cheek resting on it. The moon's reflection in her eyes made them even bigger; they weren't violet anymore; having faded to a milky purplish, almost blue. Ichigo was lounging in his bed, observing her actions, wondering if the almost-invisible-but-still-there tears in her eyes were an optic illusion due to the lack of sleep or he was witnessing something extremely rare. Despite his musings, there was one thing he was sure of: she was angry. For sure. And she was about to tell him why.

"I was demoted to Third Seat," she fumed. Bingo, "I don't know why! In such times the Lieutenant has to be capable and powerful and able to manage without their captain. I don't think I wasn't doing my duties the right way."

"Mhm, definitely," he murmured, firstly because he was sure she was the best lieutenant in whole Seiretei, and secondly, she was furious; she needed someone to agree with her. And lastly, he was kind of too tired to do anything but agree with her.

"And what's most interesting is that when I asked Ukitake-san why I was demoted," she took a breath before continuing her rant, "Do you know what answer I got?"

"No."

"He said, "I'm honoring your brother's wishes." Can you believe it? I barely managed to get this title while Onii-sama was alive, and now that he-"

At that precise moment Ichigo knew that what he saw in her eyes wasn't an optical illusion - she really was crying, or at least wanted to cry. Desperately so.

"Moreover…" she sniffed quietly, contained the hiccups that were already coming and continued on, "Moreover, they want to scatter _his_ ashes. Scatter! You understand? I know that in the human world it's better to do so, but Byakuya-sama is part of a noble family who has always followed traditions. He shouldn't be buried this way. He should be buried just like his Kuchiki ancestors!"

A silver trail of liquid ran down her cheek to caress her lips.

In response to the exposure of her feelings, he simply grunted seemingly unemotionally and moved a little on his bed. He was actually surprised that the funeral of a Shinigami would be so important (hell, their bodies disappeared over a short period of time). Ah well, one learnt a new thing every day.

"I think you need to sleep. Take a rest."

She looked over at him questioningly. Surprisingly, there were no tears in her eyes, and there was but a hint that she wanted to cry. But he managed to notice even that.

"I can't sleep anyway."

"Well, I think it's high time you stopped using my wardrobe as a bed," with those words he patted the space next to him sleepily, "Come here. The space there is really tiny, too."

She looked over at him suspiciously, then slowly got out of the closet and approached the bed, where she sat on the very edge of it. Her eyes weren't milky blue, keeping the stars captive, but it was now the black of a wormhole, of a Shinigami's robe. The black of Byakuya's hair.

Quickly, almost shyly, she lowered herself next to Ichigo's broad shoulders, taking little to no space at all. He was momentarily washed with the aroma of lilies.

"And you know what's the worst thing of it all?" she started her rant again, "They want to scatter his ash-"

He interrupted her as gently as he could. He didn't want to make her snap, especially in her condition now, having lost such a close person. It was a wonder she still wanted to be in his presence.

"Will you finally fall asleep?"

"Okay," she groaned, and with those words, she settled herself, hiding her face in his shirt, and fell asleep almost on the spot. He stared at her for a moment or two, sighed and let himself fall into Morpheus' hands.

In that morning, Ichigo woke up to a wet shirt, a warm emptiness right next to him and his hands embracing thin air.

...

...

* * *

**Random bits of trivia:**

**1.****In most cases ****of Japanese funerals ****the ashes are buried in the family grave, but scattering of the ashes has become more popular in recent years.**** I guess Yamamoto has to be up to date with teh latest fashionz :D :D **


	3. Chapter 3

...

In the Eleventh Division:

"Hey~ Pachinko head, where's Byakushi?"

"... The hell should I know? Maybe he's hiding from hideous creatures like you."

"NO! He never did that! I want Byakushi!"

...

...

...


	4. Chapter 4

...

"I don't get it," Ichigo was grumbling, feeling out of place with his black clothes among all the white, "Why the hell would you wear white on a funeral? I mean-"

"Hoho, it's not that hard to guess, now isn't it?" Renji replied sarcastically somewhere from behind Ichigo and Rukia, "We usually wear black and on such occasions, we'll wear black too?"

"Well," he actually hadn't thought of it at all, "It still doesn't matter! Over at home, we wear black on funerals."

Rukia, who had been up until now chuckling at their antics, decided that it was time to intervene their argument. Not to mention that the Captain-Commander would soon start talking and those two had to be quiet by that time.

"The traditional colour for such events is white," she snapped at them, effectively shutting them up, "Ichigo, your culture now is too influenced by weird western movies, but in the past it was like here as well."

He simply gaped at her. Maybe the tone of her voice surprised him. Behind him, Renji let a smirk dawn on his face - he was finally beginning to see the spirit back in Rukia (at least he thought so.)

Right at that moment, there was a sudden sound which ended any stray senseless banter. The music continued with a solemn tone, as the Captain-Commander ascended the temporary stage. His hair was as white as usual, but it seemed like there was a new line on his face for every dead person in his war. The most important people who died (if one could say that) were in dark coffins, which were neatly arranged in a row around the old figure of the Captain-Commander, as though they had been waiting for the moment they were to be burnt for all their life. Rukia noted that his Zanpakuto wasn't in his harmless staff form, but instead it was in the traditional, deadlier form of a sword, taking a rest in its hilt.

And when that ancient man opened his mouth to speak, it was as though everyone stopped breathing, lulled by the words. He told of the terrible war Seiretei had to wage, of the sins it had to redeem by this war, of the horrendous loss everyone suffered. He said that there was no one who hadn't been affected by that war - everyone lost something; be it a limb, a friend, a relative or a mentor. Even he, the Captain-Commander was the same, having lost one of his closest people - his Lieutenant, Chōjirō Sasakibe. That was the reason why today he didn't stand above them, but beside them and shared their sorrows and grief over the past.

Then his hands went up above his head, reaching for the heavens in a majestic gesture, followed by the graceful sweep of the fabric of his garment.

"The bodies resting around us in coffins... They once belonged to souls of heroes. Their sacrifices shall reside in our repentant minds for as long as we last. Today, we offer them the only thing we can: our respect and a proper funeral."

With those words, he moved the hilt of his sword just a little upwards, but still the steel shone gray in the sunlight, making his intentions clear.

Then, just like that, he summoned his Shikai.

Everyone ducked, knowing the immense strength of their Captain-Commander, but were surprised as they felt nothing a second after. One by one, curious heads rose up to see what was happening. Apparently, Yamamoto was keeping his reiatsu in check so as not to scorch everyone and have to cremate not twelve but twelve thousand people.

And so he started burning the bodies in the coffins, without even opening them. He simply yelled out the name of the person, called him quietly a hero and proceeded with the burning of the flesh. It was nothing more than a formality since those bodies weren't material, but still the power of the moment rendered everyone speechless. They couldn't see the body in front of them turn into ashes as it was encased in a coffin; all they could feel was a sudden flash of heat and the quiet murmur of an old, tired man. And it was enough.

Once he was done with a body, he moved on to the next one where the same procedure happened, as some servants wheeled out the coffins from where they'd take out the ash.

Rukia's whole body was tensed. She knew her brother was somewhere out there, but all Yamamoto-sama muttered so far were names of people she could only attach to faces (and her brother was definitely not just a name and a face.) He would just simply... Right now... Wait, still... One more—

"Byakuya Kuchiki: a good Captain, grandson and brother. A hero."

Followed by a sudden wave of heat and pain.

Through the haze of the pain she threw a skeptical look at Renji who replied with the same. He had been called a hero.

Quite an unfitting title for Byakuya Kuchiki, she realized. A hero was someone who'd fight for glory, and her brother didn't even talk about glory. Not only had he simply wanted to help his only family now - she and Renji, to an extent - but he had done his duties as a Shinigami as well. There had been no talk about glory or being a hero. There had just been duties and family.

Byakuya Kuchiki had been called a hero. He shouldn't have.

A shiver ran up and down her arms and spine. She wanted to turn her eyes away. But didn't.

Suddenly, Ichigo's arm wound around her thin shoulders, but she didn't take any solace in that.

(He might disappear as well. Just like Onii-sama did.)

...

...

* * *

**Random bits of trivia: **

** colour for funerals in Japan is, as you know, white. However, I've heard that nowadays, black is the more commonplace colour for funerals. Hence Ichigo's confusion :D **


	5. Chapter 5

...

Back in Ichigo's world, Rukia was doing some training with Tatsuki and Inoue. Soul Society had decided that since some humans from Karakura town knew of the existence of another world and had some traces of reiatsu, it would be a good idea to train them. That would result in a good amount of guardians in the human world who'd be better suited for life there and who'd look out better for any potential threats.

After reaching this decision, Rukia was sent to train anyone who qualified and ended up with the two best friends.

Tatsuki was doing quite well with the Hakuda, after already having the physical strength for the moves, though she needed more time to adjust to the Kido spells. Obviously, Inoue was the opposite: she needed more physical exercise so as to have enough power to execute the Hakuda moves, while learning kido spells was a piece of cake for her.

And one day, as Inoue was off to run another mile, Tatsuki and Rukia were left alone. The girl from the Earth was wiping her wet hair so the Shinigami couldn't see her face as she asked her the strange question.

"You're mourning for someone, right?"

Surprised, Rukia looked over at her head, hidden by the towel, trying to discern her motives and how the hell she'd noticed that. And in her confusion, she didn't notice the following words come out.

"How did you know?"

There was the hint of a smile and Tatsuki threw the towel away and shook her head, apparently enjoying the feel of her wet hair.

"You're forgetting I know Ichigo," a pang of something she couldn't quite name hit Rukia and a wave of heat akin to shame bathed her, "I watched him without ever saying anything to him. Although I knew he was in pain, although he's my friend..."

There was silence again. Both heads were bowed, not quite strong to face the other and have to talk about things they didn't want to.

"So..." the human girl dragged out the word, "What happened?"

At that precise moment Rukia looked up to the sky, as though searching for something. Or someone.

"He went to the dark side of the heavens. And he didn't return."

...

...


	6. Chapter 6

...

One night, Kira, Renji and Matsumoto were piss drunk again.

Such gatherings had been more and more frequent and less and less funny. The three youngsters that weren't exactly youngsters were finally starting to feel the weight of the years bearing down on their shoulders, yet they didn't have the wisdom to endure it all. Consequently, they had taken up the habit of drowning their sorrows.

This specific night, they were all lying wherever they saw fit (on the couch, on the floor, close to the bathroom in case of a sudden need to puke). Small puddles of vomit were dotting the floor; when someone hadn't had the time to run to the toilet, empty bottles with ghosts of alcohol on their bottoms were strewn everywhere, the windows were closed and the atmosphere was thick with alcohol vapor and unwashed clothes.

Renji was currently inspecting the bottom of yet another bottle of sake, wondering how the hell it was empty again.

"They finish so fast now," he grumbles to himself, before half-turning, half-falling to get Matsumoto in his vision, "Neh, Rangiku?"

He always referred to people by their first name when he was drunk.

The girl herself was giddily shaking her left leg, her hair all matted around her face and her breasts almost out of her top. Again. She didn't hear him, but still replied.

"Yah, Yah, surrreee," she slurred, giggling again when her leg caught Kira's sleeping face and smacked him over and over again. Renji almost smiled at her antics. Almost.

There was something on his mind.

"Dey called 'im a hero," he murmured, maybe to himself, maybe to Matsumoto, maybe to the sleeping Kira or maybe to the soul of Byakuya he was sure was still somewhere out there, watching over them.

"Eeeeeh? Ya unhappy he got called a hero?" Matsumoto looked over at him and through the drunken haze he felt she was glaring at him, "Be happy dey acknowledged him. Mine wasn' even mentioned *hic*."

They had a custom of not mentioning the names of the people they had lost in the last few wars. It was easier that way.

"He wouldn'ta said tha'. He woulda said he was somethin' else."

"Sureh, Sureh," the busty girl muttered and then fell off the couch she was lying on, and cuddled up next to Kira, where she fell asleep blissfully.

As though sleep could come that easily to Renji. He stayed where he was, occasionally flicking the neck of the bottle to see whether some sake had magically appeared or not.

Byakuya wouldn't have said that.

He would have said he was simply a Shinigami doing his duty.

...

...

Very tired and very hung over, Renji was just taking a walk somewhere between the buildings of the divisions when he was interrupted by a very shrill, very annoying voice:

"Hey, Pineapple Head! I want to see Byakkun!"

He sighed and wondered how to explain death to a young one.

**...**

**...**

**...**

**...**

**I've always wondered whether Yachiru understands the concept of death. Sure, she must've killed, she must've fought, but she has never lost a close one. Dunno, she might be thinking that death happens only to the 'bad guys'. Actually, Byakuya would be her first close person to lose. **


	7. Chapter 7

...

"I'm not grieving over him anymore," Rukia whispered to Ichigo as they were just falling asleep. They had made a habit of sleeping on the boy's bed, "I'm simply angry that his ashes won't be buried in the Kuchiki grave."

Still sleepy, Ichigo replied the only thing that came to his mind.

"Well, imagine it as his last duty of a Shinigami. He was always a man of his duties, right?"

Rukia smiled slightly.

"Only when we aren't talking about the people he cares about being in danger."

Content, Ichigo fell asleep quickly, letting a hand drape over the girl's small body. After a second of staring at nothingness, Rukia let out a sigh and succumbed to sleep's embrace as well.

The next day, they woke up to the other's sleepy smile.

...

...

It was once when he was drunk again that Renji understood.

He was in the office of the Sixth Division's Captain. It was a mess, as usual after he had been chosen as a captain (they should have known that it would happen that way.) Papers swam in lakes of midnight ink and those that weren't drenched in dark blood were tossed around by a slight wind coming from the opened window.

They were no calligraphy masterpieces; everything was torn and stepped on. Renji had destroyed any trace of _him_ in this place.

At that precise moment, as he was lying in poodles of his own vomit, of ink and who knows what else; it dawned on him.

The importance of Byakuya Kuchiki in his life. He wasn't simply a mentor, a captain and a rival. He was something more. Akin to a brother and beyond.

Something Renji wouldn't be able to live without.

But he'd have to. Because he was Renji. Because he was fire: although his flame would diminish for some time, in the end, it simply returned with doubled power and force.

Just like what he did that time long ago, when Rukia was kidnapped.

Slowly and shakily, he stood up, trying to make the floor stop moving underneath his feet, and saluted thin air, before vomiting in the nearest empty space.

Tomorrow, he'd face it all. Tomorrow, he'd say goodbye to Byakuya Kuchiki, his mentor and would finally embrace his duties. Tomorrow, he'd do everything. Anything. But today, he'd relax and do some rehab from his last drunkenness. It was high time he stopped drinking so much.

...

...


	8. Chapter 8

...

As they finally scattered the dust that had once been Byakuya Kuchiki, Rukia closed her eyes, not trying to stop her tears now; letting herself grieve one last time before going on with her life.

Around her, the wind picked up a dash of dust and blew it away to her cheek, where it took a rest as a final caress, before slipping away to the vast unknown. Startled, she opened her eyes and followed the motes as they took the long journey away from her.

And suddenly, although she was still crying, a shy, almost-there smile etched on her lips.

And felt hopeful.

"Brother..."

He was simply a Shinigami. Nothing more, nothing less.

...

...

...

**Thanks for reading :)) Review? :3 'offers cake' **


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